


Another Version

by h_itoshi



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Nakayama Yuma - Fandom, Sexy Zone
Genre: Blood, Halloween fic!, M/M, Nightmare setting, Rated for nasty not porn, Various creepy things, Wounds, imported from LJ, mild pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:57:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28537710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_itoshi/pseuds/h_itoshi
Summary: It's a fancy hall, black and white checkered floor and a long marble stairs with a red carpet. The windows are high and faceted and there's a fountain in the middle of the hall. Somehow, it feels familiar, but Yuma's never been here before as far as he knows.
Relationships: Arioka Daiki/Inoo Kei, Chinen Yuri/Yamada Ryosuke, Nakayama Yuma/Yamada Ryosuke, Yabu Kota/Yaotome Hikaru





	Another Version

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the JUMP shoot in November Popolo this year. Because fancy clothes and suggestive poses. (Didn't have time for the last pic tho huhu ;_;)

It's a fancy hall, black and white checkered floor and a long marble stairs with a red carpet. The windows are high and faceted and there's a fountain in the middle of the hall. Somehow, it feels familiar, but Yuma's never been here before as far as he knows.

"Welcome Yuma-san." A voice he recognizes says suddenly, and he turns to the stairs, which he's certain were empty when he looked at them just a few seconds ago, but now they're occupied.

It's Nakajima Kento, dressed in the fanciest tailcoat, complete with embroidered vest and top hat, sitting casually in the stairs with legs spread, leaning against a shiny black cane with a silver ferrule.

"... Kento?" Yuma asks, confused and surprised to see him. "... Nice outfit?"

"Feeling underdressed?" Kento grins and rises gracefully, then starts descending the stairs slowly. Yuma looks down at himself and finds his outfit to be a black T-shirt and one of his favourite pairs of jeans. He jumps when Kento speaks again just in his ear, because he definitely didn't hear him come that close so fast. "Nice of you to come even though you disregarded the dress code. We'll try and fix that."

"What?" Yuma asks, because he doesn't really follow this and besides, it feels like Kento moves too fast even though Yuma doesn't see him move, suddenly on his other side and breathing against the shell of his ear.

"Let's call it a game, shall we?" Kento offers, his smile so cute that Yuma instantly feels suspicious of this. "I'll give you this, and you follow the rules, okay?"

Suddenly Yuma feels something cold lock around his wrist, and he looks down to see Kento's gloved fingers retreat from a metal bracelet that kind of looks like one part from a pair of handcuffs.

"... What?" Yuma repeats, and he can't help but feel that this thing shouldn't be on his body, like his skin rejects it and he tries to tug it off but it's stuck.

Kento smirks, and this doesn't look the tiniest bit cute, more psychotic and Yuma takes an involuntary step back as Kento raises his hand to show off a small key.

"This will unlock your bracelet. You want it unlocked, don't you?" Kento smiles, and Yuma has no idea what it is but he definitely wants it off. "It has a twin."

Yuma frowns until Kento elaborates. "The key. There's another one that'll fit. There's one in each room. You just have to find the right one. That's the only rule."

"Room?" Yuma repeats, because he hasn't seen any room, and besides, he's really distracted by the metal against his skin that seems to heat up gradually.

"Yes." Kento confirms, then points with his cane towards the row of doors that line the wall where the stairs ascends, white fancy doors with golden numbers on them, numbered one to four. "You just have to find the right one. Simple, right? Also, a tip. Don't let them kill you."

"... I... What?!" Yuma asks when he can finally make words, turns to look at Kento for answers, but there's no one there.

He frowns, wondering exactly what's inside those pretty doors, and he's not sure he wants to know. But he can't wear this bracelet, it feels like it itches and tightens and warms up all at once, and he somehow knows that as long as he opens one of those doors it'll stop.

Slowly he ascends the stairs, looks at the red carpet covering it and he can't help but think it's too clean to be a carpet. Like no one has ever walked here before. He tries to draw out the time it takes to get up, but suddenly, like time passed too fast, he's standing before the door neatly labelled number one.

He takes a deep breath and tries not to think about that his hand reaching out for the handle shakes a little, but instead pushes the door open, expecting the worst.

"I want lemon tart. Hand me lemon tart?" A demanding voice that he knows very well is the first thing Yuma perceives, then he takes in the interior of the room. It's bright and open with huge windows and white curtains, and in the middle of the room, there's a table full of desserts. Cakes and tarts, cupcakes and chocolates, miniature cookies and icing miracles mixed with fruit.

"You have to eat your cake first." Another familiar voice says patiently.

Yuma is too surprised to properly react, just watches Inoo and Daiki mildly argue about cakes, Inoo with a shiny dessert fork loaded with strawberry cake that he tries to make Daiki eat. They're both well dressed, in stark white shirts and black ribbons tied like lazy bow ties around their necks, and Yuma tilts his head, wondering if this was the dresscode Kento spoke about.

"Oh, Yuma-chan?" Daiki suddenly says, and Yuma feels a bit like he was looking at a painting and suddenly he's in it. "What are you doing here?"

"... I'm looking for a key?" Yuma says after a moment of trying to remember what he was doing.

"Oh, you mean this?" Inoo asks, smiling widely as he puts the fork down and lifts a thin chain from the table. There's a small key identical to Kento's hanging from it.

"... Yes." Yuma agrees, because he didn't think it'd be this easy.

"We don't really know what it is." Inoo contemplates it for a moment, while his other hand absentmindedly scoops up some cream from a plate and raises his sticky fingers to Daiki's mouth without looking. "Will you tell us? Have some dessert."

"I..." Yuma starts, but he's really busy staring at how Daiki's tongue flicks out to lick the cream from Inoo's fingers like it's completely normal, because that is... No. Yuma blushes and looks away, but suddenly he's standing before the table where there's a chair and a plate with a huge beautiful slice of strawberry cake for him.

"I... I don't know really." Yuma says, but obediently sits down because that cake looks amazing, even though something Kento said is nagging at the back of his mind. He can't seem to remember it though. "Is there a spoon?"

"They're missing." Daiki tells him apologetically, and Yuma glances at his hand, wondering if he's supposed to eat this with his fingers. "So where does this key go?"

Yuma simply raises his arm to show off the bracelet, then his eyes widen as he sees how it's attached to his skin, the edges where the bracelet ends red in irritation.

"Oh, that doesn't look too good." Inoo says with a concerned frown, twirling the chain with the key around his long fingers, then picks up the fork he held earlier. “Here, you can use this.”

“Oh, I forgot that one.” Daiki says, then looks at Yuma intently for a few moments, and even though his smile is sweet, Yuma feels really uncomfortable.

He looks down at the cake on his plate instead, and even though he's not supposed to eat sweets, he's not sure he can help himself right now, not with those strawberry slices and artistically piped cream practically calling his name.

“Do you like strawberries Yuma-chan?” Daiki asks innocently, and Yuma looks up as he slides the fork into his cake, preparing a bite. “Do you prefer something else?”

“Ehm... Strawberry is fine.” Yuma says, because it doesn't really matter to him. He just wants to eat the cake.

“It's nice, isn't it?” Inoo asks, picking a strawberry from a bowl full of them and examining it for a moment. It's big and red and looks juicy, at least initially. Yuma's not sure whether he's just seeing things at first, as the berry seems to shrink and the colour dulls into a reddish brown, but when the mould starts growing on it in white-green stains, Yuma's certain it's not just his mind making things up. He stares as the berry decomposes before his eyes, but Inoo doesn't seem to think any odd of it since he just twists the sad green leaves off of it and pops it into his mouth like there's nothing wrong.

“I love strawberries too.” Daiki agrees, and when Yuma manages to turn his very wide eyes from Inoo, Daiki's licking what looks like yellow sticky lumps from his own fingers, and it takes Yuma a moment to recognize it as old cream. He glances over the table and sees how everything seems to have aged a few weeks within seconds, and when he looks down at what's on his plate, he jumps and drops the fork with a clatter.

“Oh dear _God_.” His breathing is staggered as he pushes his chair back from the table and throws a hand over his mouth. The slice of cake has shrunk to half it's size, the strawberries have a layer of fuzzy mould over them and there's a goddamn _worm_ crawling slowly through the sponge parts and Yuma's so grossed out that he feels like he might throw up.

He stands quickly, looking away from the table, and he feels the sweet smell of rotten fruit and the sourness of old dairy products and it's suffocating.

“Yuma.” Inoo's voice is cold now, nothing left of sweetness and charm. “You can't leave until you finished your dessert.”

Yuma looks up at them, and both of them eye him evenly, but he feels like a single wrong move might set them off. Still, he can't help himself.

“I can't eat that, no one can eat that!” Yuma exclaims, and he's about to just turn and run for the door when his bracelet gives a burn that feels like an electric shock and he remembers about the key. He doesn't think before he's thrown himself halfway across the table and snatched the thin chain from the table cloth, and he's happy he's so fast because a second after he pulls back there's a fork stabbed into the table right where his hand just were.

“No!” Inoo yells and rises from the table, and Yuma barely catches a glance of Inoo's burning eyes and Daiki slowly rising while reaching for something, before he turns and runs for the door, the key safely in his hand.

Just as he lays his hand on the handle, something suddenly crashes into the wall next to his head, and he reflexively blinks as a chunk of white nears his face. He feels it cut his cheek, followed by a splatter of tiny burns over his face and a splash over his arm.

He screams at the pain and he hears Daiki laugh behind him, but then he's out the door and he throws it shut behind him, back in the calm and quiet hall, and the only sound heard over the gentle ripple of the fountain is his own heavy breathing. He breathes for a few seconds, then looks himself over to see the damage. He's got some kind of stain over his T-shirt, something yellow and gunky that could be cheesecake, there's a red splotch on his bare arm and he feels a warm trail tickle its way down his cheek.

“Could have gone worse with the teapot there.” Kento says softly, and Yuma's eyes snap up to suddenly see him standing before the railing, both hands comfortably resting on his cane like he's been standing there all day. “You only got a scratch.”

It takes Yuma a long few seconds to understand what Kento's talking about, that the item that nearly hit his head was a teapot, and suddenly he's also happy it didn't go worse.

“I told you not to let them kill you.” Kento says, then steps forward while pulling a white handkerchief from his pocket and holds it out for Yuma. “But you got the key. Does it fit?”

Yuma is about to accept the handkerchief when he remembers about the key, and opens his palm where the metal has left indents from him holding it so tightly.

“Try it.” Kento urges, but there's a knowing undertone to his voice that makes Yuma certain it won't fit.

He does, raises the key to the tiny keyhole that really reminds him of handcuffs, and pushes it in, but it doesn't turn. It's the wrong one.

He yelps when there's a sharp pain at his wrist, and as he looks down, the bracelet seems to have rotated a centimetre to the left, and there's a thin trail of blood running down the back of his hand from where it's dug into his flesh.

“Oh, I should have said.” Kento's voice is innocent, like he'd just remembered something. “It doesn't like the wrong keys.”

Yuma groans at the pain and hurries to tug out the key, but the bracelet doesn't move back.

“You'll just have to hurry finding the right one.” Kento smiles softly, but his eyes are almost predatory as he looks at Yuma's wrist, then offers him the handkerchief again.

This time, Yuma accepts it and tries to ignore the throbbing pain from the bracelet, because somehow he knows that trying to tear it off will only make things worse. Instead, he wipes the blood from his cheek and wrist with a shaky hand, and looks down at his shirt with a grimace.

“You should get new clothes.” Kento advises, and Yuma frowns because it isn't like there's a retail store in this fancy hall, but Kento nods towards door number two with a lopsided smile. “I'm sure you can get help in there.”

Yuma looks at Kento for a few moments, trying to figure out whether he means that or not, but then he glances towards the door, and when he turns back, Kento's gone. So is the handkerchief he held a second ago.

Yuma takes a deep breath, figuring that there's nothing else to do than open that door.

He expects the worst again, something like a crazy tailor with huge scissors or at least similar, but he's surprised. The room is smaller than the last, with a huge mirror with a beautifully carved golden frame on one wall and a rack of clothes against the other, and the two standing in the middle of the room he recognizes so well he'd know them blindfolded, and he can't help but feel relieved.

“You can't do anything on your own, can you?” Chinen asks Yamada as he helps him button his white shirt, and Yamada smiles softly in response, arms still at his sides.

They're both fully dressed save for Yamada's buttons, in suit pants and shirts and black vests with silver embellishments, and it suits them both.

“Sorry.” Yamada apologizes, but Chinen doesn't seem to hear him as his hands slow to a stop and he turns his head towards the door.

His features show surprise for half a second when he sees Yuma, but then he clearly takes in the state of his shirt and makes a face.

“Yuma?” Yamada follows Chinen's eyes and sees him, a genuine smile on his lips as he easily steps away from Chinen's hands and heads for Yuma instead. “It's been a while.”

“You're so busy all the time.” Yuma tells him, the conversation flowing easily as usual, but there's something odd here.

“Sorry.” Yamada apologizes again, and he's close enough to talk now, but he steps further into Yuma's personal space and drapes his arms over Yuma's shoulders.

It's not too weird, Yamada can be really clingy, but something doesn't seem right. First, sorry isn't normally his favourite word, second, he seems very... pliant. Not like he doesn't do everything Chinen tells him normally, but at least he puts up a fight.

“It's okay.” Yuma reassures even though he can't help but frown a little, but then Yamada smiles and tilts his head as he leans closer, and Yuma doesn't even have time to register he's about to be kissed before there's a tiny brush of soft lips against his, and then Chinen's voice rings clear in the room.

“Ryosuke! You'll ruin your clothes.” Chinen says sharply, and Yamada pulls back again, a small apologetic smile on his lips as he looks up at Yuma innocently.

Yuma has no idea what just happened, no idea, because Yamada may be clingy but he's no slut and he doesn't kiss people like that, but then he feels something that distracts him from that mess of thoughts. It feels like something warm drops onto his back and then cools, and his eyes widen a little, which makes Yamada cock his head in confusion.

“I...” Yuma starts, then he feels it again, definitely, a drop of warmth hitting his lower back and cooling. “Is there something on your hands?”

Yamada frowns, but withdraws his arms and backs a step, raising his hands as if to look at them but he almost doesn't seem to see them.

“Is something wrong?” Chinen asks, an eyebrow raised like Yuma's acting stupid, and at least that feels normal enough.

“I... Think I felt something dripping on my back.” Yuma explains with a shrug, feeling a little awkward.

“We should get him a new shirt.” Yamada says softly, nudging Chinen with his shoulder, hands again hanging limp at his sides.

“We should.” Chinen agrees, and heads for the clothing rack. Yuma watches him pick out a plain white shirt and return, looking at Yuma like he's assessing him.

“If you want this, you should take that off.” Chinen says and nods at Yuma's T-shirt, which makes perfect sense, but Yuma somehow doesn't want to pull it over his head and have three seconds of not seeing anything.

“I... Thanks.” He simply says and leans forward to snatch the garment from Chinen's hands, and he barely notices Chinen's offended expression because he sees something else. A thin chain around his neck that disappears under his shirt that still has one button open. It's the exact same chain, so even though Yuma can't see the key, he knows that's where it is.

Chinen shrugs then and turns to Yamada, so Yuma rips his T-shirt over his head as fast as he can while they're both looking another direction.

He just drops the garment on the floor and slips his arms into the sleeves of the shirt, wincing when the fabric drags over the bracelet. He should just put this on, then ask Chinen for the key and leave.

At least that's what he thinks before he looks up and he's distracted again.

Yamada's seated on the chair before the mirror, his back facing it, while Chinen's standing before him, a little bent forward as he ties a bow tie around Yamada's neck. What distracts him is how close they are, how it looks like a really suggestive photoshoot with Yamada's half-shut eyes and parted lips and Chinen leaning in close to his face. Except that it doesn't stop there, and Yuma's mouth falls open a little when they come close enough to kiss, slow and seductive while Chinen's fingers gently keeps fixing the tie. Yuma's thoroughly scandalized even though a blush raises on his cheeks that has nothing to do with how wrong that is as he catches a flick of tongue between their lips, and he quickly averts his eyes downwards. He notes that Yamada still doesn't move his arms, and he barely has time to think that that's weird before he inevitably looks at their reflection since the mirror is so close, and he can't help the shocked breath that makes it's way out of his mouth.

It all looks normal, except Yamada's arms, where the edges of his white sleeves are stained in red, the ends of it completely red and occasionally dripping blood down where his hands should have been. Because he doesn't have hands. Instead there's a gory cut at his wrist that's not done at once; it looks more hacked. There is a rag of muscle or sinew hanging a few centimetres down, and then a lump of something sickeningly white that could be a wristbone and if Yuma felt like throwing up earlier, this is worse. Blood drips to the floor in the mirror, and when he looks at the real floor, the drop is there too, even though Yamada's hands are intact here, and horror fills him as he realizes what he felt on his back.

His knees go a little weak and he's afraid he's going to faint, but then he notices something missing before him. Chinen.

He barely has time to raise his arm to protect himself before the sharp object comes down against him with surprising strength, and Yuma whimpers as he feels it cut into his palm and little finger before it's withdrawn and Yuma stumbles backwards.

Chinen's perfectly collected before him with what Yuma realizes is a mirror shard in his hand, uneven and reflective and edged with the same blood that pulses in Yuma's wounded hand.

Yamada sits on his chair, bow tie perfectly tied, and looks on with mild interest in his eyes as Chinen launches for another attack.

This time, Yuma's more prepared, and he's too focused on getting the fuck out of here to be worried about wounds as he lets Chinen dig the shard deep into his upper arm, the arm with the bracelet on, and reaches for Chinen's neck with the other. His eyes tear with the pain, and he fumbles once with fingers against soft skin before he catches the chain and tugs with all his might.

The shard disappears from his arm as Chinen looses his balance a little, and the chain breaks and comes loose into Yuma's hand, thankfully with the key on it.

He turns without looking behind him and rushes for the door, and there, next to the door, he sees another mirror, smashed with shards littered over the floor, gleaming in a puddle of blood that is large enough to be nauseating.

“Bye bye Yuma-chan.” He hears Yamada's gentle voice before he's tugged the door open and slammed it shut behind him, key in hand and blood pulsing from the wound in his arm, and he sinks down against the door trying to just breathe enough not to faint.

“You were supposed to get new clothes, not let them undress you and make you even more of a mess.” Kento's voice is disapproving as he slowly walks past Yuma just to turn and pass him again, nudging his bloody upper arm with his cane and Yuma whimpers because shit it hurts. Actually, it hurts so bad he just wants to sit here and not move or preferably even breathe.

“Aw poor baby.” Kento sings, but it's mocking. “You're still alive, aren't you?”

“Barely.” Yuma mutters, but Kento's not impressed.

“Wrap yourself up and try your key.” He says, almost talking to himself as he voices his concerns. “You look really bad, this won't do. At least button your shirt, god.”

Yuma manages to glare up at him, but Kento looks as flawless as usual and doesn't seem to be able to care about anything besides Yuma's inappropriate clothing.

When Yuma's too slow to do anything, Kento makes a small frustrated noise and pulls out his handkerchief again, suddenly clean, and hands it to Yuma, who quickly presses it against his wound even though it's not bleeding too much anymore.

“It's not that deep.” Kento tells him firmly, and suddenly it doesn't feel like it is anymore. “Try your key.”

It sounds so much like an order that Yuma raises a shaky hand before he's even aware of it, and he needs a few tries to get the bloodstained key into the hole, closing his eyes when he finally feels it go in.

He expects it when the key doesn't turn a millimetre, but still he groans when the bracelet moves around his wrist, digging even further into his flesh and somehow manages to hurt more than the cuts in his arm and hand together.

“Not that one either?” Kento asks, sounding almost excited, and when Yuma looks up at him, his eyes are lit up with amusement. “Guess you'll have to try again.”

Yuma doesn't want to, really doesn't, but he finds himself rising anyway, his arm throbbing but not killing him anymore.

“Good boy.” Kento almost purrs, but when Yuma turns to look at him, he's not there.

He looks at the number three for a long few moments, sees the fancy lighting reflected in the gold, and as he steps closer, he sees himself too. He's got a cut on his cheek that seems like it's about to become a bruise, and he remembers he forgot to button his shirt. It's literally a pain, since every time his biceps has to move, it sends jolts of pain down his arm, but he can't stop thinking about how Kento's been going on and on about the dress code. He doesn't want to enrage anyone more than necessary.

Slowly, he lays his healthy hand on the door handle and pushes.

This room is furnished, almost like a hotel bedroom with dark wood and white textiles, warm light shining in through the high windows and crème chiffon curtains, making the room feel welcoming. Yuma knows he should have seen it coming when he notices the pair occupying the room because those two are inseparable always.

Yabu hums softly to himself as he gently fixes with Hikaru's hair with gloved hands, wearing a full suit in a shiny grey-black with gleaming silver buttons. Hikaru's on a chair before him, expression soft and almost serene as Yabu fuzzes with him. He's not entirely as impeccably dressed as Yabu is, the top two buttons of his shirt open and it's not tucked in, and there's no vest under his jacket, but he also wears white gloves.

There's nothing threatening about the atmosphere, but still Yuma feels uneasy, almost scared, because this is too calm. Hikaru's never this still, especially not when he meets someone, but now he only sits and quietly looks at Yuma with mild interest, eyes moving from his face to his bloody arm and back.

He doesn't say anything, but Yabu still looks up like someone called his name and smiles when he sees Yuma. “Hi there. Long time no see.”

“Hi.” Yuma replies awkwardly, half expecting any of them to suddenly attack him, but nothing happens.

“How are you?” Yabu asks politely, but his focus is back on what his fingers are doing at the back of Hikaru's head. “You look torn.”

“I... My arm hurts.” Yuma admits, and he doesn't want to look at it, but there's throbbing in his upper arm and his palm, and the bracelet feels like it's pitching out little flickers of fire through his veins at random intervals.

“Really?” Yabu asks, looking up with interest, and he withdraws his hands, setting something down on the desk next to him that has Yuma staring. Thread, a needle and a small pair of scissors. “I could look at that?”

“Ehm... I'm good.” Yuma answers, mind a little absent as he stares at the roll of thread because he's never quite seen anything like it. It's white, but not clear white, and a little thicker than normal thread, and what did Yabu even use that for.

One of Hikaru's hands in his own lap suddenly twitches, but nothing else moves, and Yuma wets his lips nervously.

“Are you sure?” Yabu asks, tilting his head and focuses on Yuma as he almost unconsciously strokes Hikaru's cheek before trailing his hand to Hikaru's shoulder instead.

Yuma doesn't answer him at first, busy looking at how Hikaru leans into his touch, eyelashes fluttering, because that is so... strange.

“... Is something the matter?” Yuma finds himself asking, and he knows he's frowning in concern as he looks at Hikaru.

“What?” Yabu asks, but then seems to understand what Yuma's talking about, and his fingers trail back up Hikaru's face like he's a pet. “No, I actually just finished with him. Isn't he beautiful?”

Yabu's eyes shine with excitement as his trailing hand leaves Hikaru's hair and slowly withdraws, but Hikaru's head tilts to follow the movement. Yabu's other hand settles on Hikaru's shoulder, then slowly runs down his arm, which raises gradually as if Yabu's touch was magnetic to it.

Yuma just stares as Hikaru pliantly follows Yabu's every move without even seeming conscious of it, lips parted and eyelids heavy as his limbs move on their own.

“... What did you do to him?” He asks, voice weaker than he'd like.

“I fixed him.” Yabu declares, sounding a little proud as he tilts Hikaru's head backwards enough to press a gentle kiss to Hikaru's forehead, and as his throat is exposed, Yuma can make out small scars along his smooth skin.

He's not aware he stepped closer until he can suddenly see them clearly, small white lines with equally as white dots left from cuts and stitches, and Yuma glances at the thread on the desk again, thinking that it looks almost shiny, but more... like a fat-like shine rather than an artificial pretty one.

“Yuma?” Yabu asks, and his voice is a little colder now, so Yuma quickly looks back at him, suddenly remembering about the key he needs when his bracelet chooses this second to send fire up his arm and he grits his teeth. “Are you okay?”

“Mm, it's... I...” Yuma starts to explain, but then Yabu looks at his arm.

“Oh. You're one of them.” He says, and both his hands settle on Hikaru's shoulders in an almost protective manner. “I won't give it to you.”

“... What?” Yuma asks, because he doesn't follow him here, but Yabu's eyes are suddenly so fierce that he takes a step back.

“I only just fixed him.” Yabu continues, sounding almost a little childish as his hands slide down to rest at Hikaru's sternum and Hikaru's head tilts to the side with a small sound of contentment.

“You...” Yuma frowns, but as Hikaru's hands come up to Yabu's slowly, he sees the thin chain hanging from his wrist, but it's a bit short. And, he's not wearing anything around his wrist, just bare skin between the cuff of his shirt and the white glove. It hangs out from inside.

Yuma takes another involuntary step back as he realizes it, stares at the chain hanging out and tries to think that maybe it's fastened on the back of his wrist because it can't be _inside_ it.

“He needs his hands.” Yabu says, voice fierce now, and Yuma wonders if Yamada's hands has anything to do with this. Wonders if maybe that key was bloodstained before he touched it, and the thought makes him sick.

Hikaru just looks at Yuma calmly from where his head rests against Yabu's arm, and that's the most unsettling thing about this. There's a harsh jolt through Yuma's arm that feels like it's ripped his blood vessels open, and he clutches at his arm with a groan, knowing he needs to get that key no matter what.

“Maybe... maybe you could take a look at my arm after all.” Yuma says, thinking that it might distract Yabu enough to make him let go of Hikaru.

“... I could.” Yabu agrees, and he picks up his little sewing kit and steps out from behind Hikaru to Yuma's side. Hikaru's arm follows Yabu like he wants to reach out for him, but somehow Yuma knows Hikaru has no saying in what his body does. If he's even aware, since his facial expression hasn't changed at all this whole time, just to the extent of a sleeping doll. Yuma stares at his wrist, which is now stretched out before him, and he can easily see the poorly healed wound that the chain comes out of, angry red around the edges and some almost black smudge seeping out, and he shivers.

The next thing he does is jump, because there's a hand firmly grasping his upper arm and his shirt is cut open wider over his wound. The scissor blades brush his flesh and Yuma whines, which makes Hikaru's head tilt the other way like a confused dog, but his expression still doesn't change.

“Oh this is good.” Yabu praises Yuma's arm, and Yuma forces himself not to pull away and try to save himself. He needs the key, and as Yabu's gloved fingers touch his wound he grits his teeth and tries to think of how to get it out, even though he wants nothing besides get Yabu's hands off of him.

“How did you get this wound Yuma-chan? It's right between the muscles.” Yabu's voice is low and appreciating as his fingertips dip into the flesh and Yuma whimpers, feeling as violated as if he'd been raped.

“Mi-mirror shard.” He says, and he'd have wanted one right now, because he's certain he can't just grab the chain and tug it out of Hikaru's arm. First, it probably wouldn't work, and second, he'd faint.

“Mm.” Yabu hums softly, and his fingertips withdraw for a moment, making Yuma turn to look at him. His fingertips are bloodstained as he rolls out a piece of thread that ends on it's own, maybe half a metre long, and Yuma's eyes are fixed to the thread that looks a little sticky, kind of like an over-boiled noodle, and wonders why Yabu carries the scissors.

Scissors. That's what he needs.

“What... what is that?” He asks weakly as Yabu threads the needle and Yuma can't seem to even move, and he doesn't want to know but he asks just to talk.

“These?” Yabu purrs, closing in with the needle against Yuma's skin, and suddenly he can't help himself anymore and tries to pull away because he doesn't want that on him, not at all, but Yabu's grip on his arm is like iron no matter how much Yuma squirms and tosses. “Nerves. They'll go to your spine and make you do anything I want you to.”

There's a second of silent horror in Yuma's mind before he realizes what that means, that that's what's happened to Hikaru, and before his brain is fully aware he's snatched the scissors from Yabu's hand holding him, launched forward and slashed them down Hikaru's wrist.

Hikaru's expression changes a little now, but it's like mild surprise as he looks at his arm. The cut isn't very long, and it's very askew, but Yuma can only stare at what's inside as a thick, almost black substance drips out of it and he realizes it's old blood by the smell. But inside, there's these thin white threads that withdraw deeper inside, crawling away like worms and Yuma can't even breathe through his disgust until there's a stab to his own wound and he screams.

He feels something penetrate his muscle, a sharp thin pain crawling slowly up his shoulder and he panics, reaching out for the chain and tugging, pulling a lump of blood with him that splashes to the floor with a disgusting sound, and as the key emerges from the tissue, there's a few white nerves hanging on to it.

Yabu makes a sound of panicked surprise as he first now seems to notice what Yuma's done, and he lets go of Yuma to rush to Hikaru's wrist, his white gloves stained with fresh blood getting tainted with that gunky dark substance as Hikaru looks up at Yabu innocently.

Yuma doesn't stay to see as Yabu curses, has never been in such a hurry to get to the door, and as soon as he's got it closed behind him, he looks at the wound in his arm and grabs the white end that still sticks out of it, feeling the crawling pain stop right at the crook of his neck and he exhales a shaky breath of relief.

“You're just lucky those are so slow.” Kento says, and when Yuma looks up, he's grinning. “I see you got some extras with you too.”

Yuma glances down at the key and sees those slimy threads hang from it, twitching a little at the ends. He shakes the key to get them off because they are as gross as if they'd been actual worms, but they're sticky and he doesn't want to touch them.

“You should probably get yours out. They can break.” Kento advises, then leans against the railing, looking like he expects a good show.

Yuma bites his lips and starts tugging at the long white string inside, then screams in surprise at the pain it causes, like the string has grown hooks that tears his tissues when being pulled at.

Kento's smile widens and his eyes are pleased as Yuma takes a few deep breaths before pulling again, a couple centimetres until he can't handle anymore and he pauses again.

Kento watches him like he's a really good TV-show, smile growing a little wider whenever Yuma seems particularly in pain, and when Yuma finally gets the gross thing out of his body and tosses it away, tears streaking his cheeks stinging his cut, breathing shallow, Kento gently claps his hands.

“Well done.” He praises, again in that purring tone. “Try your key now.”

Yuma doesn't think he could move ever again, but still, he obediently raises his hand to get the key into the hole, only this time he's shaking so much he can't do it at all.

Suddenly there's a gloved hand taking the key from him, and Kento easily puts the key in the hole, turning it like there's no big deal, but the bracelet doesn't loosen.

“... Did it work?” Yuma asks, and he's a little ashamed of how pleading his voice is as he looks up at Kento's eyes, lit with a sadistic gleam.

“Hmm.” Kento hums mockingly, then withdraws the key and leans in to press a soft kiss against the already stinging cut in his cheek. “Yes.”

Yuma looks helplessly between him and his bracelet, which doesn't grind any tighter into his skin, but doesn't loosen either. “But...”

“Oh.” Kento smiles, again looking like he forgot to tell Yuma something, but it's so fake. “I guess I didn't tell you. It doesn't actually come off.”

~*~


End file.
